Astray
by Kyndred.Raven
Summary: Even if it costs me everything, I must know the truth. For months, I've searched. For months, I've failed. As my life ebbs away, my obsession grows. It's beautiful - the color of a setting sun. It sings to me - promises to show me the reason why I was abandoned. Being led astray has never felt this frightening...and this fulfilling. Help me. Someone. (Abelas/Lavellan)
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Dedicated to my amazing friend, Nyaore (without whom I would likely not have had the courage to write) and all the readers out there who love Abelas :)

If you have a moment, please let me know what you guys think :D

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><p><strong>.<strong>

**Astray **

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

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><p><strong>9:44 Dragon<strong>

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><p>.<p>

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The elf appeared like a specter.

The guards at the gates couldn't have stopped him, for no one had even seen him arrive. Whether he snuck in through the gardens, climbed over rooftops, or had scaled the vast cliff walls of the Keep would remain a mystery – much like his background; much like his true intentions. Each of his strides was powerful and silent, his long legs moving him through darkened corridors with purpose and determination. He walked into Skyhold's great hall with his back straight and his chin raised high, wearing a thick fur cloak and a hood that covered the entire top half of his face. Snow tumbled from his shoulders and boots with each step; his clothes looked travel-worn.

On his back, he carried a massive maul made of shimmering azure crystal. The richness of the decorations of the handle and rivets clashed with the worn state of his clothing, but this did nothing to detract from his menacing appearance. Pride and confidence oozed from him in tangible waves, so much so that when the castle guards finally spotted him, they moved aside as though directed by a higher authority. Was it the tilt of his strong chin? Or was it the way he strode in as though he owned the place? He moved without fear or hesitation. No one could have said that he didn't belong here. No one would have dared.

It wasn't his entrance that mystified the Inner Circle of the Inquisition, however. It was his timing. The Inquisitor's reports on the Temple of Mythal had never painted him as an enemy, but they hadn't praised him as an ally, either. According to these same reports and various eye witnesses, this elf had retreated into the shadows and disappeared from living record. Mysterious, really, how he stepped out of the vast world of anonymity at just the right time and in just right way. The Inner Circle couldn't have known it then, but they needed him, for with each passing day, the Inquisition fell farther and farther into darkness.

It was Josephine that spotted him first, but only Cullen recognized who he was. The Ambassador's gasp of surprise was followed quickly by several guards snapping to attention and drawing their weapons. Cullen and Cassandra followed suit, unsheathing their swords and taking a defensive stance in front of the Inquisitor's throne. The now _empty_ throne. He stopped a good distance away, a nearby brazier flickering and dragging dramatic shadows over his covered face. Cullen's eyes narrowed. Though he couldn't see the elf's face, his strange armor was the same as the pictures Phaereth had drawn in her reports. With a painful stab of nostalgia, he recalled that she was a talented artist. The likeness was striking. It was as though this man had stepped out of her sketches and come to life.

No one said a word for several moments, the occupants of the hall perplexed by his arrival. Was this an intruder? Was he an enemy? Not even Cullen could predict that, and when his companions looked to him for action, he felt helpless. All he could do was give the guards a gesture to stay on their guard in case their visitor chose to display hostility. The elf gave them all some time to speak, and when they remained silent, he widened his stance and set a hand on his hip.

"I hear you've misplaced your Inquisitor," he said without preamble, his voice clear and strong. Beneath the covering, Cullen could see dark tattoos veining down high cheekbones and tanned skin. "I hear that she is dead." The Commander schooled his expression into a calculating glare.

"What business do you have in this hall?" he challenged. Several of the guards grimaced, for that was a tone that the Commander often used to cow even the toughest soldiers into submission. The elf didn't look intimidated, though. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited as though he had all the time in the world. Beside Cullen, Cassandra frowned and stepped towards their visitor.

"Who are you? What do you know of the Inquisitor?" she demanded. Cullen spared Cassandra an inquisitive glance, surprised that she didn't recognize their visitor. Then again, the events at the Temple of Mythal had taken place well over three years ago and she didn't always go over all the reports as thoroughly as he did. It was his job to note potential enemies of the Inquisition. At the former Seeker's question, the elf reached up and slid his hood from his face. He was fully shaved except for a thick braid of hair that cascaded down the center of his head. The markings on his face reminded Cullen of Phaereth's before the day that they mysteriously vanished. The elf's golden eyes narrowed.

"I am Abelas, and I am here to find what you have lost."

"We have lost nothing," Cassandra snapped.

"What do you hope to accomplish by lying to me, _shemlen_?" the elf asked, tilting his head to the side. His tone was inquisitive, as though he was truly perplexed. "There is no longer time for half-truths and secrets." Reaching into a satchel beneath his cloak, he pulled out what looked like a small leather bound journal. As he spoke, he raised it up so they could see it. "I know where she is going," he declared. The object in his hand looked vaguely familiar, but Cullen couldn't be certain where he'd seen it before. Then the elf's words sank in. He jerked forward.

"You know where she is?" he blurted out before he could think it through. Cassandra scowled at him with disapproval. Phaereth's disappearance was a matter they'd tried to keep under wraps. It wouldn't do for too many to know that the Inquisitor was missing. Abelas stared at him, his direct gaze almost making Cullen uncomfortable. Slowly, he nodded. "Then tell us," Cullen ground out.

"No. This, I will not do."

Josephine frowned. "You are not the Inquisition's ally. Why should this interest you?"

"My reasons are my own," he replied, his eyes and expression veiled and guarded.

"Then why have you come?" Cullen demanded, annoyed by the warrior's haughty attitude. They'd been searching for Phaereth for nearly two months now. Even with a massive amount of the Inquisition's resources at their disposal, they'd had no luck. What could a single elf with little knowledge of the world outside his temple know of this situation? Perhaps Abelas was bluffing. But, to what end?

"You are looking for her, as I am," Abelas explained. "It would be wise, perhaps, to share certain knowledge and resources." He looked around the room, almost as if he was searching for someone. "In particular, I came to speak with a certain _Elvhen_ companion that traveled with her."

"Solas?" Cassandra asked, her brow furrowing.

"Was _that_ his name?" Abelas asked. "No matter. Where is he? I would speak with him."

"He's gone," Cullen answered. "He disappeared years ago, after the defeat of Corypheus." Whether Abelas was expecting to hear this or not was difficult to tell. His expression didn't change at all. However, the Commander did notice that a spark of understanding sprang to life in his eyes.

"I see. Then it seems that I have less time than I anticipated." With that, he turned on his heel and glided towards the exit.

"Wait," Josephine called after him. "Where are you going?" He paused - seemed to consider something. Then, he lifted his hood up and over his face again, and replied without turning around.

"Emprise du Lion. If your Inquisitor is still alive, that is where she will be."


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Wow! I wasn't expecting to see so much interest in this story, but I really am glad that there has been. I look forward to spreading Abelas love :D

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><p><strong>Astray<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

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><p><strong>9:45 Dragon - 13 weeks after the Inquisitor's disappearance<strong>

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When I jumped off the cliff, I wasn't planning on killing myself.

However, not all things always go as planned.

As I fell, the wind whipped my hair back and cut at my face, slipping under the furs of my clothes and chilling me to the bone. I was so terrified that I couldn't even scream in panic. All I could do was flail about and attempt to cast a barrier before I hit the semi frozen waters so very far below me. Closer and closer they came, the ground rushing up to meet me as though it was a long lost lover. Only in this case, something told me that our reunion wouldn't bode well for me. Though I was disoriented and frenzied, the fall seemed to last a lifetime. Time stopped for me, and I had a moment to consider that perhaps I'd made a mistake. I had just enough time to analyze how I'd gotten here. At the moment that I chose this fate, I was convinced that I was picking the lesser of three evils. Jumping off a cliff seemed like a fine idea when you were in a bind, like I had been.

Just moments earlier, I'd been trapped on a ledge with nowhere to run. A high dragon had circled above me, its mouth gushing hot white steam that curled in the frigid air. His yellow and blue scales gleamed in the rays of dying daylight, the last of the feeble sun shining through the thinner skin on the webbing of his wings. Its throat glowed with a dim orange light; I knew that any moment, it would unleash a bout of hellfire and bring down the entire cliff. I'd fought enough dragons to recognize the signs. Had Bull been with me, this would have been a grand occasion. In that moment, however, I was not amused. In my blundering, I'd invaded the dragon's territory, and the song of the necklace around my neck was likely unwelcome in his presence.

I didn't have a prayer of tackling it on my own. Not to mention, the dragon would have to get in line to kill me. On the left and right, I was surrounded by Red Templars. Some were missing heads; others had growths of red crystals where their limbs should have been. Some held sharpened swords and axes; others wielded magic. If it were one or two, I might have considered fighting them. But as it stood, I was weaponless and at their mercy. My journey had taken my staff from me, and the bow I'd been hunting with for weeks had snapped when I lost my footing and fell during my climb to this very cliff.

After the calamity with Corypheus years ago, the Red Templars were scattered and leaderless, hardly anything more than tales told by clever minstrels in taverns. Those poor souls who had survived the lyrium poisoning hid like vermin on the run from stomping boots. The Inquisition had orders to destroy visible red lyrium deposits on sight, but pockets of the vile substance still remained beneath the earth. The creatures dug deep in their desperation. Trapped in a state of agony and suffering, they awaited the moment when death would take them at last. They would never have attacked a lone traveler; they wouldn't have had the motive. It was my stone that drew them out; I was sure of it.

They couldn't resist its song.

Just like me.

Trapped and surrounded on all sides, I knew there was only one option: the foaming and roaring waters of the river below the cliff. At least if I jumped, I would have a small chance of surviving. The funny thing was, I almost expected to hear someone shout "_vhennan!_" as I stepped over the ledge. When my feet slid back and my heels propelled me over the cusp into the abyss, I waited for the voice that I'd heard so often in the past to call my name. Or perhaps "Inquisitor!". Or maybe even…no. That was stupid. Dread Wolf take these foolish flights of fancy. Those times were long behind me. _He_ was gone. Aside from the glimpses I caught in the Fade, I would never see him again. All that should matter now was the Dream and the endless string of clues that led me to this frozen wasteland.

And all for nothing.

That's what stung the most.

As I hit the rushing torrents of the river, I stopped thinking. I ceased analyzing and regretting. As soon as the water closed over my head and I realized the true peril I was in, there was no longer room for anything in my mind but the steps I needed to take to survive this. I'd done my share of swimming in half-frozen lakes and rivers in the past, but this was different. My feet didn't touch the bottom, and the cold was unbearable. It stole my breath and turned my lungs to stone. I sank down as though a rock was chained to my ankles.

Above – even underwater – I could hear the dragon roar in outrage as its prey escaped. It could have chosen to follow me, but the ridge of the mountain where the river flowed was surrounded on both sides by walls of rock. The space was too narrow for its massive wings to maneuver. The Red Templars didn't hesitate, however. As I looked upwards, I saw them falling from the cliff, blind in their fervor to follow me and the stone I carried. They hit the stream with enormous splashes, sinking at first then somehow managing to break the surface and swim. Had the river been calmer, I would have ducked farther under and tried to lose them in the currents. Unfortunately, it was all I could do to keep treading water and make sure I didn't drown. My odds looked worse and worse by the second.

I was a strong swimmer, but the cold crippled me. My muscles screamed in agony; it felt like every movement tore them apart. The river twisted me about, pushing and pulling me every which way until I didn't know which direction I'd come from. Powerful currents thrust me under water, wave after wave cresting over my head. I tried to hold my breath, but every time I thought I regained my bearings, the winding waters turned me around. I fought and thrashed, my lungs burning for air. All rational thought fled the scene. I swam up, and each time I breathed out to keep water from flooding my nose, I felt more and more helpless. No matter what I did, the surface seemed to loom just out of my reach.

Invisible hands yanked me down and slammed me against one of the boulders scattered about the river's path. Following close behind was a large chunk of debris - a log that swung around and came close to taking off my head. By some miracle, I managed to dodge that fate. I ducked under it, but I wasn't quick enough to dodge again when it whipped around a second time. Then pain! – pain all down the right side of my body. Instead of my skull, it crushed my hip. My mouth opened on a silent wail as I watched my leg bend at an unnatural angle, a stream of bubbles the only evidence that attested to my anguish. Something in my thigh shifted then snapped. Stars danced in front of my eyes.

The current pinned me between the stone and the log. As seconds ticked by, my body grew numb and my vision hazy. I knew that I was drowning. A sideways glance showed me that I wasn't alone. Crimson crystals glinted in the pandemonium of the torrents. The Red Templars weren't far now, and if they got a hold of me, I would be doomed. Despite the threat they presented, however, they weren't my worst enemy here. Fear and panic would be my final undoing, so I forced myself to stay as calm as possible. My lungs contracted, every fiber of my being screaming for me to inhale. Air, water - it no longer mattered. I just needed to breathe! To resist the urge, I gritted my teeth together until I felt they might crack. Even if I couldn't have air right away, I had a few more minutes before passing out.

Think. Think! There had to be _something_ I could do! I had no strength left and none of the concentration required for a fancy spell, but I wasn't entirely helpless. Wrapping one arm around the log that was crushing me, I turned to the boulder and struck out blindly with my magic, pooling together all the mana I could muster in this state. I didn't much care about the consequences or what this would actually accomplish. All I needed was enough force to dislodge me from my current prison. The stone around my neck sang in response to my magic. Water exploded all around me, bubbles and foam swirling around my body like a whirlpool. When I opened my eyes, my heart lurched in relief. I was still underwater, but I'd managed to push away from the rock. The log did the rest, and I clung to it for dear life as it shot upwards.

When I finally broke the surface, I gulped in mouthfulls of air. My head spun; I felt like I might be sick. For a moment, all I could do was cough and breathe; cough and breathe. Then, something surfaced near me, splashing outwards with a water-logged shriek that felt like it ruptured my ear drums. With claws like needles, it ripped at the skin around my shoulders; crystals dug deep into muscle. Too exhausted to cry out in pain, I twisted in the water and lashed out with my raft on instinct. A gurgling sound of pain; agony as the needles slid out of my body. I saw a flash of shimmering red and tattered chainmail reel back and disappear into the depths. The Red Templars were catching up to me. As I sagged, drained, over the log, I saw more of them appear. Unlike me, they didn't flail or battle against the current. Some clambered over the rocks while others followed me underwater. They didn't need air like I did; they didn't have to worry about drowning.

My right leg hung uselessly beneath me. When I tried moving it, I had to bite back a groan. Attempting to keep it still, I kicked as much as I could with my left. Using the log, I managed to maneuver closer to shore and waited until the current pushed the wood up against another rock. As soon as the raft was stable, I close my eyes and used my free hand to form the correct runes for a spell. I Fadestepped as far as I could, sputtering when the spell deposited me onto the muddy sand of the shore. I couldn't keep my footing and fell face first into the mud. Yet even with my face planted in the dark and sticky dirt, I was grateful. Body contorting and shuddering from the cold, I pulled myself up and half crawled to the nearest tree.

The pack on my back pulled me down, destroying my balance, so I shrugged it off. It flopped to the ground with a wet _squelch_. Had I had time, I would have lamented this, for it was full of my notebooks, dry parchment, and old maps. I was certain that they were all waterlogged and destroyed by now, but I had no time to grieve for the lost hours of work. The immediate danger forced me to keep moving. I turned to the river and saw the Red Templars struggling to wade out towards the shore. Their weight and bulk slowed them down, especially when they hit the mud. Even with my broken leg, I was lighter and more agile than they were. Between that and a few more Fadesteps, I managed to enter the forest and lose my attackers in the trees. I knew that I didn't have long. The stone would allow the monsters to track me, even across large distances. And that wasn't the worst of it. If I didn't find shelter soon, my body would break down from the cold.

Soaking wet, the fur coat I wore did nothing but slow me down. I tore it off and stumbled farther into the woods, hoping to find a fallen branch to lean on. Each step was torture, for I had to use my broken leg to keep moving. As I stumbled around, I caught a glimpse of the injury. Through a waterfall of gushing red, I could see a fragment of bone sticking out through my pant leg. The sight nearly made me double over and vomit for I knew that I would have to set it by hand as soon as possible. Creators, how I wished I'd learned to cast healing magic. I'd never had an aptitude for it, but I could have learned a bit at least. Vivienne had offered, but I'd always been so preoccupied with other things…

I heard an eagle's keening cry echo through the trees. It must have been flying high above the pines. The plethora of snow all around me dampened all sound. I couldn't hear anything below the tops of the trees – not any animals, not any birds, and not the Templars that I knew were hot on my trail. By the time I finally found a sturdy walking stick, I wasn't sure what was keeping me conscious. I'd lost enough blood to leave a thick trail in the snow. That's when I heard it – the song. It crooned to me gently at first, present just on the surface on my thoughts. But as soon as I noticed it, the voice grew bolder, more insistent.

_Phaereth… _it called to me.

I tried to shut it out and focus on the task at hand, but I should have known that the stone would know it the moment I was weak. With my thoughts in turmoil from my recent ordeal, it pressed the advantage. I felt it tugging on my mana, its voice clear and resonant as vibrating glass.

_Phaereth…_

Clenching my hands into fists, I resisted the urge to respond. More than anyone, I knew the dangers. I knew the perils of carrying the thing around my neck. I understood the risk, and I was willing to pay the price. _Whatever_ price. To accomplish my goals, I would do anything and give anything. The stone would likely kill me; in fact, it was almost a certainty. But that did not mean that I would give in before my time. I had to remember that it was a tool – something that I would use until it gave me what I sought.

_You sold your soul…_the stone whispered.

Yes. That was the truth. In the past, I would have balked at my recent decisions, but I had to remember that I was no longer Inquisitor Lavellan. I was no longer the leader of the most influential organization in Thedas. I was cursed – a shadow of my former self and a being that belonged nowhere.

_You must find the truth…_

Yes. I must. That is why I kept moving. That is why I left my friends behind. Doing so had given me new goals and a new perspective. Some might have said that I was being misled - that my quest was nothing but insanity. Was that really the case? I wondered, sometimes, if I hadn't lost my mind. And, just like every time I began to reconsider my decision, the stone pushed against my thoughts.

_The truth matters more than anything. Remember your vision. Remember the Dream…_

At those words, I shook my head. My vision cleared, and I realized that I'd blundered my way over a large distance. Glancing behind me, I saw a long trail of blood leading from the river. How had I gotten here? What was I thinking about just now? The song grew in volume, the words pulling and tugging on my reserves until I felt drained and hollow. Whatever strength I had ebbed away in an instant. I fell to my hands and knees, no longer feeling the cold or the pain in my leg. The sky filled my entire field of view, replacing green pines and leafless branches with an expanse of cloudy blue. I saw the eagle from earlier circling above me, so high up that I couldn't make out its coloration.

_Find the truth..._

I don't know how long I lay there, floating in and out of awareness. Minutes? Hours? Days? Snow fell from the sky and covered me in a layer of frost. Everything felt distant and blurry. I didn't understand what was happening; nor did I care. The stone's song comforted me, lulling me into a pleasant state of numbness and silence. For some time, I even thought I was dead. It wasn't until I heard heavy steps crunching through the snow nearby that I could think straight again. It wasn't until that moment that I realized that the eagle was still circling around as though signalling to someone. He gave another keening wail, and the sound seemed to awaken me. The voice from the stone faded into the background until I could hardly hear it.

The footsteps drew closer and closer; a hooded figure came into view above me. Now that the song was gone, I found it almost impossible to stay awake. My vision swam and the pain in my leg returned. When the figure removed his hood to reveal a pair of golden eyes, I said something but couldn't hear my own voice. My hand twitched as though wanting to reach up, but I was far too weak to accomplish the movement. The figure was an elven man, beautiful and ageless as a living statue. He knelt down beside me without a word, his silence almost menacing. Warmth radiated from him like a furnace, and when he wrapped an arm under my shoulders, I leaned into his touch. Perhaps I should have been cautious. I knew him, but seeing him felt like seeing another dream in the Fade. So many years had passed since our last meeting. We hadn't parted as enemies, but time changed all things. I should have been wary. Yet, when he helped me lean against his chest as he examined the wound on my leg, I felt no fear or even trepidation.

"Abelas," I whispered. There was so much I wanted to ask, but the moment that I tried, he silenced me, cutting short my stream of words with a grave shake of his head.

"Peace, _shemlen_," he murmured, his palm pressing against my leg and lighting up with a blue glow. I felt the heat of his magic against my skin, watched as the light from the spell illuminated his face.

"Abelas," I repeated, somehow unable to get past that single word. It wasn't just his name. It was syllables that described my entire existence for the past months. He was the first person I'd seen in weeks – the first living voice I'd heard and the first bit of warmth I'd felt since I left Skyhold. Seeing him brought back memories both wonderful and unbearable. When I looked at him, my eyes wandered over his chiseled features – the high cheekbones, the strong jaw, and the markings on his face. Seeing them hurt much more than the snapped bone in my thigh. It hurt because they had been _mine_ once; it hurt because the one who removed them was gone and would never return. I was barren now, my heart as desolate as the bare skin of my face.

"You have done something very foolish," Abelas concluded, the corner of his mouth tipped downward in irritation. When he reached up to loop his fingers under the cord around my neck, my strength returned in a surprising surge. I tried to swat him away. Not the stone! He shouldn't touch it. No one should. It was _my_ burden and _my_ curse. It was my salvation and the only scrap of hope I had left.

"No," I resisted. Quicker than a striking viper, he grabbed my wrist.

"I should leave you here to your fate," he growled and pushed away my hand. When I tried to fight back, the arm around me tightened. That arm was steel and corded muscle. I couldn't fight against that – not now when I felt like I would lose consciousness at any moment. "I should leave you here to reap what you have sown. Once again, you have meddled with forces that you do not understand."

"Don't," I gasped when he tried to tear apart the necklace. "Don't take the stone," I begged him feverishly. "Let me go!" Despite my protests, I watched helplessly as he ripped the necklace from me and held the stone out of my reach.

"I am here to divert you from your path."

"Give it back," I hissed at him, a surge of fury mushrooming in my chest. Wildfire spread through my veins. My vision tunneled, narrowing on the stone dangling from his fingers. As soon as the stone was away from me, the pain in my leg grew tenfold. My body felt heavy and sluggish. I launched myself at him. At that moment, if I could have killed him for the necklace, I would have. Who was I kidding? Weaponless, injured, and nearly dead from blood loss, I was no match for his superior physical strength. With a single push to my chest that looked like nothing more than a flick of his wrist, he knocked me to the ground with such force that I saw stars. I listened for the stone's song out of habit – desperate to hear the voice calling my name.

And heard nothing.

The song was gone, as was all hope for hearing the voices of the Well of Sorrows.

"Please," I pleaded, feeling tears sting my eyes. Being without the stone made me feel like a string of raw nerves - tattered and frayed.

"And what will you do with it?" he glared.

"I need it…without it, I can't find the truth…" To my utter shame, my tears spilled over and trailed down my face. "I can't find _him_…"

"If only you could see yourself as you are now. You have been led astray, _shemlen_."

"I don't care," I declared. He frowned at that.

"The truth is already within you," he replied, unfazed by my desperation. "It is within all who belong to Mythal," he said. Perhaps a part of me wanted to hear him. Perhaps a part of me would have done anything to be saved from the self-destructive fate I'd chosen for myself. But another part – a darker part – wanted to do whatever it took to fulfill my goals, even if meant taking Abelas's life to take back the stone. Adrenaline washed over me, dulling my senses to all but what I needed to do. I rolled over onto my stomach and Fadestepped upwards and through Abelas. Or, I wanted to. The moment that my leg bore any kind of weight, I heard the bone snap again. The pain was so intense that I immediately collapsed back to the ground. As darkness took me, I heard Abelas mumble something above me:

"I will not allow you to drown the world in shadow…"


End file.
